


This Feeling

by OliviaJacobs



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Basically discussing things that happen in Corneo's Mansion, Crimes & Criminals, Dark Past, Drinking, Drunk confessions, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Mentions of Death, Minor Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Hatred, Slight Spoilers for FF7 Remake, Slight descriptions of physical abuse, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, lying, not edited by anyone but my lord and savior grammarly, slight mentions of rape, slight mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24142054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliviaJacobs/pseuds/OliviaJacobs
Summary: Trapped in a position for the rest of his life, Leslie Kyle is desperate for a taste of freedom.Late one Wednesday evening, he finds it in Casey Webb in the middle of Wall Market.Will his past catch up to him or will he finally get what he always needed?
Relationships: Leslie Kyle/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 29





	1. I'll tell you a story before it tells itself

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read _This Feeling_. Leslie Kyle was one of my favorite characters from FF7:Remake and deserves a ton of love. 
> 
> There are mentions with a few descriptions of what goes on in Corneo's Mansion.  
> I'll be updating tags as I go! 
> 
> I haven't written in quite some time so I was thrilled to start this multi-chapter piece. I am not sure how long this will be but I appreciate you joining me for the ride. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Leslie Kyle should be grateful for the position he fought for. 

The opportunity to meet thousands of gorgeous women from all corners of Midgar and be the one person they trusted didn’t exist for anyone else. Some came to Don Corneo’s Mansion to see if the rumors were true while others loved the thrill of it. It was a chance for someone to be put on display and made to feel like they were wanted. To have one of the most powerful men in all of Midgar at their fingertips became a dream for most women, even if they weren’t sure about the process to get to that point. 

Anyone would kill to be in his position. 

Every bit of his senses experienced every single piece of Midgar. The deep accents from the Slums, the sickly sweet perfumes of Wall Market, and the perfectly painted faces that never repeated themselves. They dressed in the finest fabrics with fully focused eyes on how rich they could be if they proved themselves worthy of the most powerful man in Wall Market. 

Women giggled at him as they passed through the ornate doors, running their hands across his thin frame. His partner closed the doors tightly and locked them, giving Leslie the opportunity to shield himself around the corner until he was instructed to help move their lifeless bodies. Their coughs through the released gas never got easier to hear. Their cries and weak pounding of their fists against the door were never ignored by Leslie. But, the faint smell of gas and their silence became strangely invigorating, knowing that another round would be at the end soon. 

The dungeon under the mansion became so familiar that he could draw every brick, every corner, and every experience from memory. He shuttered when one of his partners called out to the poor women downstairs, beckoning them to their eternal hell. The women, drugged and completely useless, walked up the stairs slowly with heavy eyes drowned in fear. Their beauty truly existed at that moment where they were vulnerable without their plastic smiles and their empty dreams of being Mrs. Corneo. 

Leslie lined up the women, in no particular order, and gave a smile that he trained himself to give for years. It seemed to be the only thing that calmed them, helping wipe the tears off with the backs of their hands and taking a deep breath as they awaited a situation where they could never win. Some girls tried to run. Some of them tried to scream. But, it didn’t matter much to anyone else in the room. 

The pads of his fingers brushed over countless fabrics, all embedding deep memories in the corners of his brain that he wished he didn’t remember. Leslie felt every curve of their bodies as he carried them to the trap door and laid them across the floor as gently as he could. He whispered sweet compliments in their ear and arranged their hair to fall as beautifully as he could. The smell of blood became a comfort to him, knowing that another woman would no longer feel the pain of his boss across their skin. They wouldn’t be his doll anymore. They wouldn’t belong to anyone anymore.

* * *

Don Corneo gave Leslie almost everything he wanted. A full belly at every meal, clothes made of the most expensive fabric this side of Midgar, and the option to take any of his leftover women. Leslie always declined, finding the entire situation to be disgusting and absolutely inhumane. 

Leslie couldn’t remember the last time he felt another person touch him, let alone care for him in a way that wasn’t laced with manipulative words or to get something out of him. He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it. One or two nights, he stood outside his crew’s bedroom with a hand on the carved door with desire burning in his stomach but he ended up going back to his room alone. He craved intimacy almost as much as freedom and it was at his fingertips. He was still a man of desire, but Leslie wanted it on his own terms and especially with a woman who wanted him just as much as he needed her. Not against their will, pinned to a floor littered with beer cans and unmistakable stains while his partners laughed behind him. 

Freedom was the only taste that he never fully experienced and what he craved most. 

When Don Corneo hand waved Leslie’s criminal record, Leslie imagined it would be better. A simple agreement promised Leslie everything he dreamed of. Choosing between rotting in a jail cell for eternity and working for a mob boss in the depth of the Wall Market seemed like the easiest decision to make.. But, years later, Leslie wished the option was never given to him. 

The Don’s lackeys convinced Leslie, for several months, that the women were interested. That they wanted to be part of the Don’s life and theirs. Some stupid sob story about how the Don had searched for years for the love of his life. With how busy Corneo was, he didn’t have the time and his crew were willing to help him along. Leslie, being young and high on the fresh air under the plate, bought it. 

He lived blissfully at the front door of the mansion for months, allowing women to come in as they pleased and to ignore their passes at him until after the Don chose his bride. They giggled and ran their hands over him as they passed, but they were all business transactions to him. He never felt the spark that his crew thought they felt. Every few weeks, a new group of women graced the halls in their best dresses, sweetest perfumes, and brightest smiles. It only took one mistake of checking in on his other members to realize the horror that the mansion held and that the screams throughout the hallways weren’t of pleasure, but were cries for help. 

Their faces, twisted in pain, and their bodies bruised and bloody was a sight that Leslie would never grow fond of. Hours before, these women were filled with light and life and when he saw their lifeless bodies on old sleeping bags, nothing was left of them. They were corpses now, dead to the world or wishing for sweet release. His entire life changed that day, carrying their fragile frames to the trap door in complete shock. The color drained from his face and his heart raced like a jackhammer, following along with his fellow goons who encouraged him through the entire process. 

The sound of their bodies hitting the sewer’s floor never got easier. 

He couldn’t run. Corneo would find him.  
He couldn’t tell the authorities. His punishment for what he did for Corneo would land him dead.  
He couldn’t fight Corneo. He would make it five steps before being pumped full of bullets.  
He couldn’t manipulate him. Corneo did it better.

So, he smiled and spoke with convincing speeches to the Don, his associates, and the girls he coaxed into the mansion even though each word was part of a string of lies. At times, he tried to warn the women that came through while his crew fell over themselves in a twisted spiral of lust. Various attempts at eye contact, light touches, and lacing his conversations with words of caution was the least he could do to relieve his consciousness. Girls took it as flirting, unfortunately, and did the exact opposite of what he hoped for. 

Trying was all he had left. 

Eventually, he convinced himself that since he couldn’t leave or stop his job any time soon, that carrying these women to their resting place was his new profession. He asked for the promotion after that traumatic evening, saying that he was happy to take what was left of them. The women were scooped into his arms as he rocked them back and forth while mumbling a goodbye and an apology in their ears. He took the extra time to make them look halfway decent looking, cleaning the traces of their torture off them and fixing their clothes so if they were found, they would at least looked peaceful. 

He considered suicide. 

Death was a terrifying behemoth and he couldn’t find the strength to pull the trigger on his gun while it was pressed to his forehead. Leslie was still very young and had a lot of fight left in him. To blow everything away and wash his hands of his life was the last thing Leslie wanted. Death came to him a few times, across his time in prison and in protecting Corneo, but he slipped from its clutches with ease. Leslie wasn’t built to lay in a hole in the ground for his crimes. He was created for something so much more. 

Now, in his own personal hell, Leslie was trapped on a loop of the same day, same weekend, and same outcome. There was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing he could do to even slow it down. He wore the same outfit, fixed his hat the same exact way, and walked the same exact route every single day and there was nothing to change it. His life was perfectly on auto-pilot, roughing up any locals that stepped to him, convincing beautiful women to trust his boss while attempting to get them to run, and picking up their corpses when they didn’t listen. 

Nothing changed for years. 

That is, until one Wednesday night in the middle of Wall Market.

* * *

The Colosseum that evening was particularly packed to the gills. There wasn’t a reason for it or any special event that would warrant such a crowd. People spilled into the streets, hollering and rooting while watching the tiny televisions in the front area. The entire place was sold out which wasn’t a rarity but on a Wednesday night, it gave Leslie pauses as he ascended down the stairs from the mansion. 

He wore his usual outfit -- black jacket with red leopard print cuffs rolled to his elbows with a beautiful golden dragon painted on the back, a fitted black cap, his black shorts, and his oldest pair of lace-up boots. His golden eyes flickered from left to right quickly, analyzing the situation in front of him. Nothing seemed to be happening out of the ordinary, despite the massive crowd. His right hand pulled on the cuff of his leather glove that encased his left, feeling the fabric tighten around his fingers. Tonight would be a normal night. 

Auditions weren’t for another week so Leslie was now on street duty. It was to make sure that the Don’s city was clean of crime that ran in competition with him or to search out for more women to bring to the following audition. It gave Leslie a moment to breathe, feeling the hot wind blow through his silver locks and twisting down the streets behind him. People tended to move out of his way quickly, especially after seeing Don Corneo’s sigil perfectly visible on the back of his jacket. Others acknowledged him with slight smiles and nods, depending on which corner of the Market he ended up on. 

The route never really changed. The familiar path helped ease him a bit and also made for quick assessments. The rest of his crew would be patrolling, too, but usually around Sector 5 and 7, hoping to hear the latest gossip or picking some of the finest women. Trusted to be on his own, Leslie never took his walks for granted. He was thrilled to be able to get outside once in a while and especially out of the gaudy mansion that stood proudly on at the top of the stairs for everyone in Wall Market to pass. 

The patrol was the usual. Drunks, men unhappy in their relationships, and people pedaling random odds and ends from different sectors of Midgar. The sights never changed much, except for the occasional brawl or Shinra soldiers walking the same area as well. They politely nodded towards Leslie as they passed him, keeping to their business or pleasure depending on the evening. The brightly colored lights and lanterns lit his way through the alleys and the secret routes with people laughing or yelling around him as he passed. Some sellers screamed outside of their establishments to usher people in. Nothing felt new. 

Until he saw her. 

Two tight black braids laid just below her shoulders, perfectly crafted on either side of her fair face, contrasting with her bright green eyes. Freckles sprinkled across her nose and faded down to her chin. A cute, genuine smile that made Leslie’s heart stop for a moment. She was dressed in a simple pair of black jeans with a black camisole. Black strappy sandals to expose her perfectly pink painted toes. A purple rock on a gold chain fell magnificently above her chest. She definitely wasn’t the Don’s type because of how simple she was but to Leslie she was an elegant deity created from the stars. 

It was like one of those stupid movies he watched in Sector 8. The whole world stopped around him and she was there, under some dimly lit lantern, perfectly glowing and the most gorgeous thing he had ever laid eyes on. Her body moved in ways he had never experienced, shifting flawlessly through her various stances. The laugh that sprung from her lips made Leslie instantly smile in response with pink-dusted cheeks to match. 

It took him a few moments to watch her smile fade from her beautiful face as a man at least twice her size in a muscle tank and black pants placed his hand on the wall above her head. She seemed to be politely asking him to step away, but he laughed it off and called it something completely different. Leslie knew this guy and had a few rounds with him before. Someone that would fit perfectly in the mansion behind him, but someone too smug to even care about anyone but himself. Leslie never took the time to ask for his name or cared enough to learn what his deal was.

Leslie walked quickly but not so fast that he alarmed the man who had his back towards him. The closer he got, the more he could hear her sweet voice. She wasn’t being rude to him in the least bit. In fact, she was politely asking to be able to move forward and get home as she had someone waiting for her. Slightly crushed at the idea that his new dream girl was spoken for, Leslie pressed on until he was directly behind her tormentor. He waited a moment more, silently giving the man permission to leave before he got to him. A head start, somewhat. 

“Oh, come on, little lady. You don’t have to be anywhere,” he chuckled, leaning closer into her with a deep inhale through his nose. “You smell delicious.” 

“Thank you for the compliment but I really have to go.” 

Any idiot could hear the distress in her voice. Leslie didn’t wait for another second to clear his throat loud enough for both of them to hear. The man turned around, midway through rolling his eyes at whoever interrupted him, but his eyes ended up widening in shock. 

“Uh, hey, Leslie.” 

“Hey,” he remarked, folding his arms over his chest. 

“I was just, you know, talking to this sweet girl. She’s just so fascinating.”

Leslie’s golden eyes narrowed. “Sounds like she wants to go home, pal.” 

“I was going to walk her home! You know how these streets get at night. Creeps wandering around.”

Leslie raised an eyebrow. “Like you?” 

The man started to stammer, fighting to find the words, “I-I-I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Run home, would you? She’s a big girl,” Leslie leaned outward to look at the woman’s face. “Aren’t you?”

Chewing on her lip, she closed her eyes and nodded. 

Frustrated, the man stormed off, making sure to slam his shoulder into Leslie as he left. Quickly, Leslie reached for his arm with little effort and yanked him backward until his lips were inches from his ear.

“Leslie, come on. What the hell, man?”

“If I ever catch you creeping on her or any girl in this Market again, I will break your fucking arm off and give it to Corneo as a gift. Do you understand?” 

The man shrugged him off dramatically and continued his way toward the backstreets without hesitation. With a chuckle and an eye roll, Leslie turned on his heel to face the girl who beamed up at him with her bright and gorgeous smile. 

“Thank you,” she said softly, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I can usually get away from guys like that.” 

“You roughed him up for me so you made my job easier,” Leslie joked, shaking his head. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. 

There was a slight pause before his mouth started moving without his permission. ”I am Leslie by the way. Leslie Kyle.” He stuck his ungloved hand straight out and gave an awkward smirk. 

She took his hand in hers and gave it a good shake. “Casey Webb. Nice to meet you, Leslie Kyle.” 

_Shiva, even her hands are soft to the touch._

“Do you mind if I walk you back to your place? I am not trying to creep on you or anything,” He closed his eyes with a sigh, realizing his poor choice of words before continuing. “I just want to make sure he doesn’t harass you anymore.” 

Her eyes lit up with a joyous grin as she released his hand. “I will have to decline. As much as I would love a bodyguard, I don’t think I could afford you. I’ll be okay.”

_She did smell delightful. Like a bouquet of flowers._  
_Ask her how long she has lived here. When will you see her again?_

“Okay, cool.” He barely mustered a good response, feeling the words die on his lips. 

She smiled again at him, tilting her head to the side as she did. “I would, however, like to maybe take you out for a drink sometime? Just as a way to show my gratitude.” 

Leslie’s cheeks felt hot.

_Say yes. Don’t be an idiot._

“Uh,” Leslie cleared his throat. “You don’t have to. I am just doing my job.” 

_You’re an idiot._

Casey’s smile never left her lips, even though he denied her simple request. One of her hands reached for his leather-covered one this time, holding it briefly to keep his attention. No one in Wall Market ever made such a bold move. People couldn’t even get within a few feet unless his fist was inside their jaw. But, this girl -- Casey -- could have done whatever she wanted to him. 

His whole body was on fire. 

Leslie saw most of the beautiful women of Midgar every few weeks. All of them -- a business transaction. They were the Don’s brides and his leftovers. He walked the Wall Market hundreds of times and never once came across someone like Casey. Casey had sparkling kind eyes that made him want to melt through his boots and into the earth forever. Her laugh made his heart skip in his chest and the way she smiled at him made him feel like he could do absolutely anything. 

“It’s perfectly fine, Leslie Kyle. I respect that. Let me know if you change your mind.” 

_Every time she says your name, it’s like a fucking song._

When she let go of his hand, he shoved it in his shorts pocket to resist the urge to reach back for her.

Quickly, Leslie moved his free hand to the back of his neck, nervously. “Alright, well. I guess I’ll see you around?” 

“Of course. I hope to run into you again and maybe you’ll want that drink sometime.” 

“Yup.”

“Have a good evening, Leslie Kyle.” His name dripped off her tongue like honey.

“You, too, Casey Webb.”

She flashed him one more of her signature smiles and walked around him to head towards the backstreets. He turned to watch her leave, making sure that no one followed her when she turned the opposite direction of the mansion. Golden eyes trailed every piece of that moment from the ways the lights flickered as she walked to the words exchanged between the people around him. A few minutes felt like an eternity with her and he didn’t want her to leave. His brain flooded with so many questions to ask her but he wasn’t sure if he would ever get the chance again. Should he run after her? 

_Following her is creepy, dude. Come on._

His feet moved without his permission and stood between the man from earlier while she trailed off in a different direction. The man that harassed her was completely unaware of Leslie, laughing with a group of his buddies outside of the gym. Casey was just another notch in his bedpost and the man couldn’t care less what would become of her. It made Leslie’s blood boil seeing how quickly the man moved to the next woman that passed him. He felt anger every time the Don did the same, but this was a different feeling entirely. She deserved better. She deserved whatever she wanted.

Looking up at the star lit canopy through a hole in the plate above him, he wished that the fates made different plans for both of them.


	2. I'll lay out all my reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrea can't ignore the smile on Leslie's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!
> 
> For those hoping I would continue -- I am so sorry this took forever.  
> I plan to release chapters a lot quicker going forward. :) 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who tossed kudos or commented with sweet words. It's greatly appreciated.
> 
> Enjoy!

Leslie nearly floated up the stairs after his shift with the biggest smile on his face. The rest of his evening was completely uneventful or rather he didn’t pay as close attention as he should have. Any time he thought of Casey after splitting away from her, he found himself feeling lighter. The new emotion that washed over him gave him a boost of energy that was untapped for months. He felt almost powerful, something that he only experienced on his first day out of jail. He could do anything, handle any situation with ease, and do the whole thing with a smile on his face. 

He guessed it was about six in the morning, judging by the sun peeking over the wall across from Sam’s Chocobo Stable. It sparkled against the alcohol stained streets, reflecting it back up at him as he continued his ascent. The Wall Market grew quiet for an hour or so earlier as people stumbled back to the hotel completely out of their minds or kicked into the streets by the Honeybee Inn. There was a sense of tranquility through the early hours from the perfectly quiet city to the sweet symphony of the birds to greet him. It was Leslie’s favorite part of his shift and in a way, felt like the entire town went silent for him and ushered him to rest for the remainder of the day. 

Crumpled receipts rolled by Leslie’s feet when he reached the landing before the bridge and landed at the legs of a passed out drunk man, who snored loudly into the silent city. With an eye roll, Leslie crossed the bridge with heavy boots. Brilliant red koi fish scattered from below, swimming into the corners of the pool to wait for Leslie’s departure. 

When he reached the front, Kotch stood on one side of the doors while another lackey stood opposite him. With a patched together brown puffy vest, Kotch stood slightly taller than Leslie with dark skin and a sinister laugh that made everyone in the room uncomfortable. Kotch was one of two announcers at the arena down the street, something that Leslie depended on to avoid exchanging more words than he had to. Leslie avoided getting to know the other guards and purposely forgot their names to cut any emotional connection to him. Kotch, however, was his supervisor and someone he needed to speak to if they crossed paths. 

A blond fin turned towards Leslie like a shark in a pool full of blood. Though Kotch wore sunglasses, Leslie could feel his eyes from across the Market keeping an eye on him. 

“Good night, Kyle?” Kotch chuckled, his arms folded across his chest. The heel of one of his brown leather boots pushed against the wall that found his back. 

Leslie shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Haven’t seen you smile in a bit, Kyle. You obviously had something happen tonight.” 

“Like I said, nothing out of the ordinary.” Leslie proceeded to the double doors that led back into the mansion but before his hands could find either one, Kotch’s muscular arm stretched across his face. 

“And _I said_ , Kyle, you obviously had something happen tonight. You wouldn't keep anything from your superior, would you?” 

Leslie’s hands fell to the side before he took in a deep breath. The smile that fell across his face from Casey faded to a straight line. His head turned to look at Kotch, attempting to meet his eyes hidden behind his dark shades. Kotch didn’t move and kept his arm across one of the doors while another lackey mirrored his movements, making it impossible for Leslie to move forward without having to push one of them out of the way. 

“I broke up a fight, Kotch. That’s it. That dumb gym rat that’s always getting into trouble.”

Kotch raised an eyebrow and then laughed loud enough that the hall echoed it back towards them. “Did you rough him up real good?”

A performative smirk appeared across Leslie’s lips. “Oh, _real good_ ,” his tone of voice filled with delight, even if it was entirely fake. “Mind putting me on Wall Market for a bit? Gotta make sure he doesn’t cause any more trouble.”

“So motivated! I like your style, Kyle. I am sure we can put you on tomorrow, too. We got a few more days until we bring in some fresh girls for the Don.”

The last sentence made Leslie’s stomach turn. He swallowed hard, pushing down the sickening feeling that tried to creep up his throat. 

“Thanks, Kotch,” Leslie said, pulling on his leather glove without breaking eye contact. “Can I pass now?”

Kotch released another laugh while taking a step back to allow Leslie to continue. His scuffed boots slid across the stoned entryway and back to his original position. “Yeah, Kyle. Go on ahead.” 

With a nod, Leslie placed his hands back against the golden doors, feeling the grooves and dents from fights he wished he hadn’t witnessed. The familiar creak traveled through his ears as he used his weight to open the heavy doors to return to his room for the rest of the night. 

\----

Leslie practically leaped out of bed the next evening. It was the fastest he ever prepared for a patrol, feeling confident and rolling his shoulders back to stand taller. The light dust of pink across his cheeks when he recalled the night before wasn't his favorite accessory but he started to enjoy the reflection that looked back at him. For the first time in a long time, Leslie paid attention to the way his sleeves folded over his elbows. He spent several minutes making sure each side perfectly matched the other, his eyes darting between the sleeves and the mirror to make sure. The leopard print lined up perfectly as if the jacket was sewn for him and only him. Several times, Leslie turned at varying degrees while admiring his reflection, making sure that everything looked absolutely perfect. 

Leslie traveled down the stairs with a spring in his step, thrilled to walk the streets of Wall Market. Eating, Kotch taught him, was fundamental for walking around the alleyways and corners and something Leslie refused to skip, regardless of how powerful he felt. Making sure his team ate full meals and slept comfortably to keep their energy up were two nice things the Don provided. It was nothing like the prison food that Leslie eventually lost the taste of but the muddy colors never left his memory. Different chefs across Midgar came to cook for them, treating each meal like it was their final and making sure to use only the freshest of ingredients in the most popular recipes from all over the world. Every bite tasted better than the last and he could have sworn he never had the same meal twice. Leslie always looked forward to his meal and left him filled with delightful tastes on his tongue. 

Usually, Leslie sat listening to the other members of the Don’s crew, noting their secrets, their gossip, and most importantly, the holes in their ego. When he served his time in prison, he never had a single good night's sleep. He slept with one eye open, a knife carved from weeks of sharpening it on the brick walls that surrounded him. At the mansion, it wasn’t as drastic, but he still didn’t trust a single soul that lived there. He had no reason to let his guard down and he didn’t plan to change anytime soon. His fellow guards were loose-lipped and spilled every secret from the corners of Midgar. They didn’t think like Leslie did. They didn’t hold intel close to their chest or hide it away for later use. Without care, they shared some things that Leslie was positive made them miraculously disappear the following day. 

Tonight, however, Leslie took an entirely different approach. After shoveling down his dinner as quickly as possible, mumbling and nodding to the other guards that shared the same shift, he threw his plates in the sink and headed towards the front door. Before he could feel the doors on his fingers that were a simple few feet away, Kotch called from behind him. 

“Kyle.”

“Yes?” Leslie around on his heel to face him. 

“You really want to mess this dude up, huh? I ain’t never seen you this happy to walk around Wall Market or eat that fast.” 

Leslie nodded excitedly with a smirk across his face. “He’s been a stain in this city. Who knows what he plans to do to stop the Don. There’s only one King in Wall Market.”

_Gods, you done with your superficial presentation?_

Kotch gave a big toothy grin. “The Don will love to hear how damn motivated you’ve become. I am thrilled, Kyle. Absolutely thrilled. Go get ‘em.”

\---

Leslie wasn’t purposely looking for Casey. He didn’t think that they would cross the same path or share the same story again. The possibility that she belonged to someone else always crossed his mind which kept him from looking like a smiling idiot as he walked through Wall Market. There was a job that he still needed to do and still needed to complete. The streets were never truly safe in Wall Market and Leslie had to maintain some sort of order. If he ever skipped an evening or spent it elsewhere, the entire mansion would know about it. There was nothing that passed through those alleyways without someone knowing about it. 

If Casey _did_ cross paths with him again, he would be lying if he said he would mind, however. 

The heat from the summer air danced itself from the entrance of Wall Market and up through the streets towards Leslie. When the warm breezes brushed over his cheeks, he took in a deep breath that filled his lungs. Most evenings flipped between warm and chilly but tonight it was especially balmy for most of the people walking through their evening paradise. Accustomed to it, Leslie walked easily without wiping the sweat forming on his neck or forehead until it became unruly. The gust of warm air helped him feel a bit more comfortable as he continued down the street for his evening watch. 

Outside the arena, another crowd formed just as big as the night before. Men trying to prove their worth or showing off to their latest fling that they picked up at the local bar or the Honeybee Inn filled the crowds quickly. Leslie walked towards them with a scoff, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. The crowd, now spilled completely into the street, instantly parted when Leslie approached from a few feet away. As much as Leslie hated his job, he never grew sick of how quick people changed when they saw his face or the dragon etched into his back. 

The next stop was the Honeybee Inn, a place that Leslie didn’t find the same amount of pleasure in as the rest of its visitors. With its shining marquee, it was impossible to miss. Everyone who worked there was always cordial with Leslie and allowed him to roam through the place however he’d like. The owner, Andrea Rhodea, had an accord with the city much like Chocobo Sam and Madame M. Everyone allowed Don Coreno and his crew to pass through and be treated with the utmost respect in exchange for improvements, customers, and even workers from the Don. As an added bonus, Andrea, Sam, and Madame M also worked together to find women to bring to the Don since they knew his taste very well. It wasn’t often that the three gave out invitations, but when they did, their choices always got picked instantly. 

Down the steel stairs, he went with the soles of his boots clinking against the raised grooves which caused everyone to turn to look at him. As soon as people saw him, they immediately went right back to their conversations or sincerely nodded towards Leslie. He didn’t return each nod directly but gave an approving head movement meant for everyone in the area. Still feeling energy rushing through his veins, Leslie managed to crack a small smile to one of the women outside who dressed in, what Leslie believed, the most ridiculous outfit he ever laid eyes on. Full stingers with antennae headbands on top of their heads, breasts pushed together with glitter soaked bodies. To meet their paycheck, their words and greetings were flirtatious and lovely to anyone they met. But, they weren’t a bunch of idiotic women who were all looks. Instead, they were smart, cunning, and knew how to flip a dollar. Patrons poured out their wallets to get a glimpse of them, knowing full well that the girls were in control. The women who worked the Honeybee Inn were perfectly attractive but not enough for Leslie’s heart to get pulled in a certain direction. Their costumes didn’t help the situation much either, but Leslie never fell for it. Not even once. 

The entrance didn’t change much over the years. A small group formed to the left of the entrance, anxiously awaiting to get into the Honeybee Inn. Bright purple lights flickered from either side with muffled conversations being shared at a bar only a few feet away. It was still early and Leslie would have to pass through again a few more times during his shift, but right now, the festivities of the evening had barely begun. Soon, in an hour or so, the streets would be flooded with people trying to get into the headliner show. People would contemplate their sexualities and attractions after each performance and muttered their confessions to themselves just outside the entryway. It was a strange place that Leslie could never find outside of Wall Market but the soft music trailing over the curtains and into the street where he stood brought a sense of comfort to him. 

Pushing back the plush red curtains, Leslie walked across the black and white floor of the foyer of the Honeybee Inn. Aside from a few women in bee outfits, giggling as Leslie passed, everything seemed normal. Andrea had offered plenty of women for Leslie for being such a great bodyguard for his business, but Leslie declined every time. He wasn’t sure if it was the bee costumes or it was the high-pitched squeals that turned Leslie off, but he knew that it slightly disappointed Andrea every time he denied their advances. Andrea thought of himself as someone who knew others’ tastes as well as his own. He always gave them the confidence of being someone else for an evening, regardless of gender. 

A perfect circle created the main chamber with bold flowers in the middle spilling out of the oversized porcelain vase. The entrance in front led to the stage while the side rooms kept the best-kept secrets in Midgar. Leslie only entered the side rooms when necessary, if Andrea or one of his assistants called out in the streets in hopes of the Don’s crew would be in earshot. They were simple rooms, nothing too extravagant, but it always carried a mixture of cheap perfume, sweat, and sex. The smell weighed heavily on anyone who entered until it almost choked them. 

“Leslie Kyle!” A sing-song voice echoed from one of the open doors in the main room. 

Leslie pulled the brim of his hat down for a moment. “Andrea.” 

“Can I introduce you to our new girl? She’s a beautiful blonde from the Slums of Midgar and has the sweetest laugh. I am sure you would love a few minutes with her. I won’t tell the Don that you’re sleeping on the job. Our secret.” A finger went to his lips, giving the signal that nothing would be shared beyond these walls followed by a seductive wink. 

“Andrea, thank you but I am not interested.” 

Andrea walked towards him, swinging his hips back and forth with one hand on his hip. He wore what he usually did -- a tight black bodysuit with a high collar and golden accents over his chest and legs. Tied in the center were several knots through one black string that tied the entire piece together. Andrea never did anything in halves. He could catch the attention of anyone in the city if he wanted. Everything he did included substantial flair but not enough that people thought it was overly dramatic. The people of Midgar adored him. Adored his ideals, his dance moves, and his confidence. Everyone either strived to meet their expectations of him or desperately wanted to be with him. 

When Andrea reached Leslie, he crossed his arms and looked Leslie over with squinted eyes. A hum danced on his lips as he tilted his head from left to right. Instinctively, Leslie placed his hands on his hips and remained completely unmoved as Andrea looked him twice over. The dim light above them shined down on Andrea’s ridiculously smooth cheeks, accenting his perfectly chiseled jaw. 

“ _You_ met a girl.”

Leslie’s cheeks felt hot. “What? That’s not -- “

Andrea waved his hand in the air to cut him off. “The way you walked in here as if you have experienced the fullest amount of ecstasy and how bright and beautiful you are shining as you stand right in front of me. Your eyes,” Andrea squinted again for a moment. “Are liquid gold this evening sparkling with the possibility of adventure.” 

Leslie scratched the back of his head awkwardly before shifting his focus back to Andrea. “Save the poetry, Andrea. I am just having a good night.” 

Andrea rolled his eyes with a groan. “You don’t need to tell me. I can practically read you. Though, I don’t like when we keep secrets from each other.”

“I-I-Is everything okay over here?” Leslie quickly changed the subject with a stutter, straightening his posture to seem taller than Andrea. It was a tactic that Kotch taught him to feel more in control of a conversation. 

A laugh came from Andrea, shaking his head at his weak attempt to intimidate him. Andrea placed a soft hand on his shoulder. “Perfectly fine, Leslie. As always, we appreciate you coming by to check in on us. A typical week day. The place will be dry until a few hours from now.”

One corner of Andrea’s lips turned up towards the ceiling, paired with a tilted head as he waited for Leslie’s response. Leslie, however, started to shrink back down to his normal stance. Andrea was always fucking right. 

Leslie rushed to find an end to the conversation. “Give me a call if you need anything?” 

“Always, Leslie.”

Turning back towards the door, Leslie started walking to take his leave and continue his patrol. Over his shoulder, he yelled, “I am going to head to Madame M’s block. It was nice talking to you, Andrea.”

“Leslie?”

“Hm?”

“If you ever need a place to hide with her away from your boss, I am a call away.”

“There is no ‘her’, Andrea.”

“Whatever you say, Leslie Kyle.”

His name on Andrea’s tongue never felt like a personal attack. But, this time, conviction laced through it, knowing that Leslie wasn’t telling the entire truth. It made Leslie feel vulnerable. He felt _seen_ even if he tried his best to hide it. Even if Leslie could convince himself that Andrea believed him, he knew that it would be a monumental task for Andrea to even consider he was telling the truth. For all that the Don thought of Andrea, Leslie couldn’t hide a thing from him. Chocobo Sam, he could lie through his teeth because of how much of a coward Sam was. Even Madame M watched her words around Leslie in fear that her massage parlor would be set ablaze for saying the wrong thing. But, Andrea? Andrea said what he wanted, how he wanted, and when he wanted and Leslie couldn’t dream of doing anything else except to be respectful. 

When the curtains swung behind him, Leslie looked up towards the stairs where he started. A breath escaped him as he traced a familiar frame that leaned over the steel balcony, surveying the area. She wore a white tank that pulled tightly over her body, jean shorts, and gray boots that were perfectly acceptable for walking around the disgusting streets of Wall Market. She looked back and forth between the crowd below, eyes narrowing at different details that caught her eye. Her long black hair flowed with the hot wind with several strands sticking to her shoulders to meet with the sweat from the Midgar heat. Leslie walked into the street further, keeping his gaze up towards her. She was more beautiful than she was the night before. 

Realizing he was staring, Leslie looked straight on again and walked towards the stairs that lead up to the platform she stood. The sound of his boots against the steel stairs echoed throughout Wall Market, unfortunately not muted too well by those at the bar below him. He kept his gaze forward, however, and continued his climb. When he turned to face her, she was already looking at him with a sweet smile. 

“Leslie Kyle,” Casey called out, her smile growing when his eyes met hers. A bright orange stone of citrine hung on a thin silver chain that fell right below her chest. 

Leslie pulled on the brim of his black hat. “Miss Webb.” 

The greeting caused Casey to blush, turning her face back to looking over the area below. Leslie stood next to her for a moment before leaning on the rail with her, his arms folded to his chest and pressing against the steel bar. 

Leslie waited a moment before asking, “You get home safe last night?” 

“Perfectly. Some sweet guy scared off all the bad guys for me. Thank you again, by the way.”

Leslie kept his eyes focused on the Honeybee Inn, tracing the neon lines of the sign to not have to make eye contact. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something, Leslie Kyle.”

His heart skipped in his chest, hearing his name drip from her tongue into the hot, midnight air. 

“Okay, it’s something. But, you could have taken him.”

“Oh, I had it handled. You just managed to get him after I loosened him up a bit and then no one messed with me for the rest of the night.” She winked at him. 

“Well, I should be thanking you, then.”

“It’s nothing,” she joked, using the same tone of voice that he had before. 

Leslie laughed. “Alright, alright. What are you doing up here all by yourself?” 

“Taking in the air before the crowds show and I need to head down for work. The calm before the storm. I have always been fascinated with the Honeybee Inn. It’s such a strange little place. When you see this place before everyone shows, you get to see the underside of it all. The girls in their bee costumes gossiping without a care in the world, chain-smoking their cigarettes, and being who they truly are before having to turn into their bright, positive, and charismatic selves. It’s a lot different than what you experience, really. I like to just sit up here and people watch the patrons at the bar and take in the promises of a newer tomorrow. Have you ever stopped to listen to Wall Market when it isn’t crowded?”

“Plenty of times. The best time is in the morning, really. That’s when the mistakes of the night before are splattered across the city but the warm feeling of the sun brings forth that newer tomorrow.” 

“So poetic, Leslie Kyle.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Leslie laughed. “It’s the best thing I got going for me.”

A sweet giggle filled the air between them and Leslie bit his bottom lip to stop him from saying something stupid. 

“I think you got a lot going for you.” 

“Oh?”

Casey leaned back and placed a finger on his back. Slowly, she traced the dragon symbol on his jacket from top to bottom, barely pressing into him. “I know this symbol very well. You have a lot going for you.”

He tried not to shiver, feeling her finger against him and wishing she traced more of him. Every scar and story that he hid under his clothes, he wanted to explain all of them and feel her finger or lips across each one. 

“It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be,” Leslie confessed, watching the words fall out of his lips without thinking. “It’s different from what you see.”

“Oh, trust me. I am not looking for an invitation. I never thought the Don was attractive in any way if that’s what you think I am saying.”

His stomach dropped from relief and twisted with anxiety, images flashing in his mind of those that asked for invitations. Leslie swallowed hard and shook his head. “You made a good choice.”

“I know I am passing up a huge opportunity. But, riches and being the most important woman in Wall Market doesn’t suit me much. I have never been one for flashy things.” 

_She has no idea._

His lips moved before he could think. “Well, I am sure your boyfriend is a much better pick than the Don.” 

Casey’s chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath and shook her head. “You’re a charmer, Leslie Kyle.” 

“Okay, two things I got going for me.”

A silence fell between the two of them, allowing the warm air to twist and turn from the platform below and kiss the lines of their faces. The perfect pause in the conversation fell over them in a wonderful silence. Neither of them broke their gaze from the Honeybee Sign while the conversations below them started to grow louder in echo. Leslie couldn’t hear a single word they said as he fought the urge to turn to her and look her over again. Casey wrapped her fingers around the steel bar as she pulled back into a stretch. 

“I should get back to work. I am just over at the Inn down the block.” 

Leslie made a note in his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t think she couldn’t handle herself. She could. But, his route might include passing there more than once or twice that evening to make sure none of the gym rats dared to consider even walking through the doors. 

“I know the place. Don’t let me keep you.”

Casey pushed off the balcony’s protection and turned to face him. Her face twisted a moment in thought before she stood confidently next to him with eyes closed. “Hey, did you want to walk me home later?” 

_Say yes. Gods, Leslie._

Leslie turned, still leaning against the rail with a smirk. “I thought you had it handled?”

_You are the dumbest person in Wall Market._

Her eyes opened to look at him while the tip of her tongue found the corner of her lip before she snickered. “Okay, _will_ you walk me home, Leslie Kyle?” 

It felt like he answered before she could finish. “Of course.”

“I’ll meet you at the Inn around say, 2?” 

“2 o’clock in front of the Inn,” Leslie confirmed. “I won’t be late.”


	3. You say that I need help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a date unless they say it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read this far. This has been a fun project to work on when I have time!  
> I really appreciate the comments and the love its received and I look forward to writing the next chapter! 
> 
> Enjoy!

The next few hours were torture. 

Leslie found himself checking the watch in his pocket every few minutes and feeling its weight when he wasn't looking. Surprisingly, the evening didn't bring forth any fights in the street or idiots overstaying their welcome in Wall Market. The roads bustled with visitors from all across Midgar, but everyone seemed to be on their best behavior. Leslie usually broke up some altercation at least once, but tonight was quiet. 

He avoided the Inn entirely. 

He didn't want to seem desperate to catch Casey's brilliant smile as he passed or try to find an excuse to talk to her on her shift. It would have been pathetic, even for someone who spent most of his time looking for women for Don Corneo. Casey was different in that regard and someone he wanted to keep as _his_ secret, even if Casey didn't feel the same way about him. While she wasn't Corneo's type, she still was at risk for being female. She didn't need to see the other side of his life, and he meant to do everything to keep it that way. 

Every time he remembered his responsibilities, it burned intensely in his chest. He tasted the sins on his tongue, knowing that they would destroy Casey if she knew. There were so many pieces of the situation that he could never explain to her. He left one prison for the other for a small taste of freedom. Nothing changed except for the missing chains around his wrists and ankles. He still committed some of the worst crimes in Midgar, and the first person that showed a sliver of kindness towards him never could know how truly awful he believed himself to be. 

Five minutes before his promised arrival, Leslie strolled towards the Inn with a confident smirk. When the doorman made eye contact, Leslie watched him shrink into himself. It wasn't the first time they met, but Leslie never forgot his face. There were a few times he called Leslie in a panic to remove some unwanted guests. After seeing how quickly Leslie handled the situation, the man grew more and more intimidated by him. 

With both hands up, Leslie shook his head. "Nothing to worry about. I am just here to walk Casey home."

The man visibly relaxed, releasing a breath he previously held in. There was a flicker of excitement in his eyes but faded the moment Leslie blinked. With a nod, he pointed Leslie to the stairs to the right of the entrance. Ever vigilant, Leslie leaned on the dark green metal railing and waited patiently with eyes still on the crowds that passed him. 

Leslie thought the previous hours were the slowest he ever experienced, but the next five minutes were even worse. He did his best not to fish around for his pocket watch to observe the seconds passing, but his fingers itched for it. The pocket watch helped him count minutes when he needed to fix situations or needed to figure out how quickly he could get there. Now, it was a device that rolled against the fabric of his pants and taunted him with each passing second. His gaze fixated on the ground at nothing particular, but something to keep his mind busy. 

When he felt like he couldn't take another second without checking the time, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. When he turned around, Casey smiled brightly at him. Instead of what she wore before, she was in much more professional attire with black flats and a short black dress covered partially with a blue cardigan. She carried a small bag on her back with thumbs hooked around the brown leather shoulder straps that looped around her arms. 

"Were you waiting long?"

"Nah. Few minutes." 

"Oh, good. I would hate to keep you waiting. Are you ready to go?"

"Yup. Lead the way." 

Casey turned around to walk away from the Inn as she waved to the doorman with a big smile. The two walked a few feet before Casey looked back to make sure he still followed behind her. 

"Did you eat?" 

"A few hours ago, why?"

Casey turned around to walk backward while continuing their conversation. 

"Can I cook you dinner for taking me home? It's the least I can do." 

"I don't want to be too much trouble."

"If you think I am letting you off without some form of payment again, Leslie Kyle, you are only good for your looks." 

Leslie cleared his throat, feeling his heart speed up against his chest. His eyes moved to anywhere but Casey as they continued to walk together. Leslie gave her a few feet so he couldn't walk directly next to her but close enough that he couldn't lose her. 

She smirked in response. "Noodles at most. Rice bowls if you're lucky." 

"Either sounds great. Now that you mention it, I am starting to get hungry," he lied, feeling the smile curve over his lips. 

"Good," she said with a nod before turning around to continue walking the same direction as Leslie. "So, I am not taking you away from your job, right?"

"Not really. The past few hours have been pretty quiet. If anyone needs me, they can give me a call." 

"Is that how it works? They just call you, and you magically appear?"

Leslie fought the warmth that appeared on his face. "I guess you could say that."

"Noted. I'll keep that in mind should I need to hire you again."

"Is that what this is?" Leslie asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

"You walk me home. I make you dinner. It's a transaction." Casey proudly nodded towards him, pleased with her business sense. 

Moments passed them where they wanted to speak from the fluttering feeling in their chests, but they both knew that it would be too soon and not worth the risk. Words Casey wanted to say stayed curled back behind her lips. She wasn't someone who quickly opened herself up. Casey hadn't stopped thinking about him from the night before, but she also knew how many women passed through the big golden doors at Corneo's Mansion. She figured she was a plain girl to him, someone who worked and operated in a much lower tier of Wall Market. The women that he saw were perfect. No imperfections, beautiful gowns, and confident attitudes. Knowing that they were the first and last thing Leslie saw forced words down her throat until she swallowed them hard. 

They were two young adults walking the streets of a city that radiated terrible decisions, but both easily fought against the temptation. It was a lesson they both learned quickly that not everyone around them was who they said they were or acted with the best of intentions. Both fell for it before, trusting someone with their whole self, and regretted it almost instantly. They needed to be cautious with their exchanges and ignore how dangerously close their hands were from brushing against one another. 

"How long have you lived out here?" Leslie broke the silence, finally. 

"About five years. Moved here from Costa De Sol."

"Wow. All the way from over there? That's a long haul. What made you move?"

She lied. "Uh, better opportunities here." 

Leslie could hear the deception in her voice. "That's a great reason, then." 

"How about you?"

"Upper plate. I worked as a security guard in Shinra Headquarters. Don offered me a much better living situation. So, here I am. Free to walk around and make my schedule and wear whatever I want," he lied right back through his teeth. 

Casey bit back her response for a moment and devoured it before responding. His story didn't line up either, but she figured that he needed to say what he had to. They only met the night before, and it was unfair to expect him to be completely open and honest with her, especially in a city that glistened with great exaggeration. 

"Your job must be thrilling to leave such a secure career," she remarked. 

"Suits aren't for me, really."

Casey took a moment before taking a deep breath. "Can I ask what you actually do for the Don?"

"Classified information, sweetheart."

"Well, we will see after dinner. My noodles have been said to make some of the toughest men sing like little birds." 

Leslie rolled his eyes. 

The rest of their conversation carried on about food, a safe discussion no one lied through. Leslie talked at length about the food that the mansion served, noting how delicious the black pepper and garlic dishes tasted while Casey spoke happily about all the recipes she managed to master. The chatter between them became more comfortable and reasonable for the two of them with brief moments of silence. They lowered their guards slightly and talked with such passion that they forgot about everyone around them, the dimly lit street lights, or the loud and obnoxious parties that they passed. 

Casey turned a corner, stopping completely in front of a small set of apartments. They were so far away from the mansion that Leslie could barely see it in the distance. The lights from the front were still visible in the sky, but they were a faint glow. The street he stood on was much quieter with music from Wall Market playing softly in the shadows. Not having to be overwhelmed by the neon lights or the loud chatter was a nice change of pace for Leslie to grow attached to within seconds. If he listened closely enough, he could hear the evening insects buzzing together harmoniously. 

"Here we are," Casey said, digging into her backpack for a set of keys. 

The jingling sound of them grew louder as she pulled them out and quickly opened the door. With a quick flick of her finger, the small room warmed with soft light. Leslie stepped through after Casey and looked around the room. 

It was a small studio apartment with light blue walls. The paint began to peel in some areas, but Casey didn't seem to mind. Casey made good use of the small space by utilizing the walls and ceiling to hang everything she needed from her pots and pans to various hanging plants that significantly brightened the room. A couch littered with patches but perfect for two stood in one corner in front of a small television. In another corner was the kitchen decorated with an old oven, small fridge, and stainless steel sink that were incredibly close together but made perfect sense for a person living on their own. A small door stood on the other side of the bed, which led to the bathroom, complete with black and white vinyl tiles. On the opposite wall were various photographs from around the world, each exploring different vantage points and compositions. Along the same wall as the door was a sliding window with elegant lace curtains barely covering the outside. 

It wasn't the most lavish place he ever visited, but it made sense for how simple Casey kept her life. After he looked around the whole area, his mind started to wander to how criminals could access her vulnerability. 

_The door was easy to break into because the lock was so simple.  
A window is perfect for climbing through silently.  
Her perfectly plush bed with tiny green flowers sewn across it sat right in the middle of the studio space and could be seen easily from said window.  
The knife block sat just too far away for Casey to grab for it before an intruder could.  
The street was so far away from the main road that no one would hear her scream._

"You okay?" Casey asked. 

Leslie blinked a few times. "Yeah, uh, I am distracted by these photos," he said, walking towards the wall of art. 

Casey shut the door behind them and locked it before walking to stand next to him with a heavy sigh.

"Places I dream of visiting again." 

"These are really good."

"Thanks," she said reflexively, losing herself in the memories of the photographs as if she was experiencing them for the first time. 

Leslie tilted his head to look at every captured moment with fresh eyes. She impressed him without the artwork, but now he wanted to explore her style and understand her thoughts through a lens he never understood before. 

"You still do photography?" Leslie asked, not letting his eyes leave the photographs. 

"Not so much anymore," Casey called back. 

While he was engrossed in her visions, she moved away to start dinner for the two of them. Her fingers ran down the different utensils before pulling them out of their locations to be used. The sound of spices rolled around in glass jars and made their way into the dish. Casey kept her focus on the preparation, even if she made the dish a million times before. There was a newfound concentration that she hadn't had in quite some time. It had been several months since she cooked for two, and the recipe called for more ingredients than what she usually used.

"Shame," he whispered to himself.

Casey didn't want to compete with the chefs from the mansion. She fought the urge to change the dish to please his fancier tastes completely. It was merely a dinner to thank a stranger for taking care of her. But, a stranger who she was starting to feel deeply connected with, even though the time between them was brief. 

The knife glided back and forth along with the green onions, cutting them into small circles while the water started to boil in her large pot on the stove. It didn't take long for her to prepare the dish, but she didn't have time to look back at Leslie, who hadn't moved from the spot she left him. 

One photograph that caught Leslie's eye captured him completely. A junkyard with wall to wall of machine parts clearly belonging to Shinra by the faded logos across their skin. His brain tried to fit the components into the machines they belonged to previously, like a puzzle. Each piece told some story of a weapon that Shinra created. 

"Where's this one?" Leslie asked, keeping his focus on it. 

"Which?"

"The junkyard."

"Outside Gongaga. It's a weird place." 

"I like it."

The sound of bowls lightly tapping against each other filled the room, and boiling water started to slow down. Leslie hadn't moved the entire time from his spot while Casey finished the last remaining pieces of their dinner. What did cause Leslie to turn around was the rich aroma of garlic and pepper. It smelled so delightful that he couldn't help but move across the room to see what she ended up making. 

On the small prep table were two pairs of bowls filled with soft noodles adorned with green onions, sesame seeds, and a molten egg to either side of it. The steam danced in the air and traveled to Leslie, hitting him again with the delicious bouquet of spices. While he had some of the best food there was to have in Midgar, something about Casey's dish felt more realistic. It wasn't fancy or a work of art by any means, but it made him feel satisfied without indulging in one bite. 

Casey came into his focus, placing chopsticks next to each bowl. She picked up one bowl and a pair of chopsticks before turning around to face Leslie. 

"Dinner's ready."

"Smells delightful." Leslie passed her to grab his bowl with chopsticks in hand. 

"I usually sit on the couch, but I can sit on the bed and eat if you're not comfortable sitting next to one another."

He blushed. "No, no. It's fine. Don't want to spill this on your bed."

Casey crossed the room to sit down on what seemed to be her favorite side and didn't wait for Leslie to start twirling noodles to her lips. Leslie sat next to her, cautiously, and took a moment to enjoy the closeness of their bodies. The couch welcomed him and allowed him to sink into its cushions. There was a moment where they tried to work around, not touching one another through a series of apologies and shifting. 

"It's fine, Leslie." 

When their legs brushed against one another, Leslie shoved too large of a serving of noodles into his mouth. He planned to blame the heat of the bowl for his cheeks, changing into a deep shade of pink. What was the sound of awkward mumbling and shifting now turned into loud slurps in silence. His first bite tasted refreshing, the spices dancing along with his tongue and down his throat. Something about having a homemade meal from someone who wasn't a chef felt charming, and he could have sworn that he felt better after each bite. To say she created it with love would mean he would sound sentimental and old-fashioned. But, whatever it was, it tasted brilliant. 

"This is delicious, Casey. Thank you." 

Casey beamed. "You're welcome. I am glad you like it."

"Where did you learn to cook like this?" 

The mood of the room shifted momentarily before Casey bit her bottom lip in search of an answer that didn't destroy the evening. "When you live on your own, you sort of have a lot of time to make a lot of mistakes until you get it right." 

Leslie nodded. "Well, this is perfect. I would say _almost_ as good as the chefs at the mansion."

"Almost?" Casey leaned into him slightly, laughing. 

"Hey, that's high praise."

"I made you dinner, Leslie Kyle, and you say it's _almost_ as good as a trained chef? Lie to me a little."

_You already have._

"Fine. Only if you promise never to tell anyone. Your noodles are better than the ones I have had before." 

Casey giggled, spinning another set of noodles around her chopsticks. "I am gonna tell everyone in Wall Market." 

"You wouldn't."

"What are you going to do about it?"

_Kiss you until you forget to speak._

Leslie shrugged. "I guess you'll have to find another bodyguard to walk you home." 

Casey laughed before blowing the steam off another serving of noodles. "It's our little secret, Leslie Kyle."


End file.
